Graves Do Not Have the Final Words

Happy 5^th Sunday of Lent. At this point in our Lenten journey if you are feeling like you are sitting in the middle of desert like Jesus might have felt, remember Resurrection Sunday is coming! On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, the readings confront us with a striking image: graves opening. In the book of Ezekiel, God promises, “I will open your graves and have you rise from them.” And in the Gospel of John, Jesus stands before the tomb of Lazarus and calls him back to life.

At first, these stories seem to be only about physical death. But the deeper message is that many of us experience another kind of death long before our lives end.

A lot of us today often live inside different kinds of “tombs.” I know I have been in tombs throughout my life, and being a therapist along with a school social worker, I know there are a lot of other people who are also finding themselves inside different tombs. Some are buried in grief, others in loneliness, guilt, fear, anger, depression, anxiety, or despair. These graves are not made of stone, but they can feel just as heavy. I have experienced moments like this in my own life. When I lost my dad at seventeen, the grief felt overwhelming, and suffocating as if the world had suddenly changed in ways I was not prepared for. There were other times too—losing a job where I truly believed I would stay at forever then starting a new one where I felt completely lost, and even saying goodbye to my childhood dog. In moments like these, it can feel as though life has closed in around us and we are stuck inside something we cannot escape.

What makes this Gospel so powerful is that Jesus does not approach the tomb with distance or indifference. Instead, we hear the shortest and perhaps most profound line in Scripture: “Jesus wept.”

Even though Jesus knows he will raise Lazarus, he still enters into the sorrow of those around him. He shares in their grief. This moment reveals something essential about God. God is not distant from human suffering. God stands beside us in it.

Before the miracle happens, there are tears.

This matters for our world today. In times of loss, uncertainty, and hardship, faith does not mean pretending that suffering does not exist. Even Christ himself wept at the reality of pain and loss.

Yet the story does not end at the tomb. After sharing in the grief of those around him, Jesus cries out, “Lazarus, come out!” And life breaks through death.

The message of this Gospel is not only about what happens after we die. It is about what God desires to do in us right now. Christ calls each of us out of the graves that hold us—out of despair, fear, anger, and isolation—into new life.

And sometimes, the first step out of the tomb begins with the simple truth that God sees our suffering and shares in it. But God does not leave us there. Christ still calls our names, inviting us to step out of the darkness and back into the light.

So for anyone who may feel stuck in a tomb today, I offer this prayer:

God of life,You who wept at the tomb of Lazarus, draw near to all who carry grief, sadness, anger, or despair. When the weight of loss feels too heavy and the darkness feels too deep, remind us that you are present even there. Roll away the stones that trap our hearts, and call us gently back into the light. Give us the courage to step forward in hope, trusting that with you, no tomb is the end of the story. Amen.